Most of what I throw away is the kind of thing you find in the check-out aisles in any department store: half-eaten candy bars, Bic lighters, waxy flavored lip balm and Rubik’s Cube key chains.
“Badass” was the last term anyone would use to describe my first two vehicles. They were the soccer mom rigs of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. The only claim to coolness either could make was that they rode like boats and had V8 engines.
At 6 a.m. on a September morning, my parents literally kicked me out of the tent at the KOA in Billings, Montana. Thus ended my first move as an adult and started a long career adrift.